


Ego Volo Vestri Mentula

by MaK



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-25
Updated: 2012-08-25
Packaged: 2017-11-12 20:37:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/495408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaK/pseuds/MaK
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A quirky, insecure little teen grows into himself by becoming a porn star without really recognizing it.</p><p>His brother thinks he's kind of a queer.</p><p>His brother also wants him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> its like one in the morning jesus christ

“So, Bro,” Dave walks into your room with his hands in his pockets and his hair over his shades and a part of you thinks he looks like a prick but it’s basically a less muscular version of yourself. “I, uh, found some porn on the computer and your face was in it.” He leans into the door, face red but eyes sheltered by the blackness of the shades John got him and you’d think he wasn’t actually a little ball of anxiety. Instead, you’ve raised him for thirteen years and if he likes it or not you know he’s a withering little mess. Your love from is only so large.

“I make sex toys for a living, Dave,” you tell him. 

“When the fuck did you star in a porno?”

You pause and his throat jumps in a silent yelp. “How many have you fucking starred in?” 

“Like, twenty or something,” you admit. It’s not as if it were a secret. This apartment is nice and you need a way to keep it and disappointingly most people find smuppets weirder than they do sexy. “It’s not a big fuckin’ deal, Dave, now go back to your porn and let me mix.”

There’s a moment of silence where you place a record on and plug some wires in and then remove them, placing on your headphones and pushing papers out of the way. “You pierced your dick,” he mumbles, looking down at his feet and then straight at you – though he’s probably staring at the window behind you. What a pussy. “And, uh,” he chokes and coughs and swallows twice before continuing. The little episode lasts a total of two minutes. “Your cock is big.”

“I’m sure yours is the size of a goddamn dime.”

He frowns and pouts but doesn’t respond for a bit. When he does, it’s mumbled and it reminds you why you’re so disappointed in him. “I’m only thirteen, so, I mean,” he says.

“No excuses, Strider,” is your reply and you pointedly take out the headphones and start blasting some music you’ve already created. It’s one you know Dave has tampered with, the gay little dings in the background, but it’s a nice touch so you don’t say anything. “Now go wank or whatever and I’m going to fuckin’ rap.”

“Dude, Bro,” he looks at you and this time you know his eyes are on you. There’s a kind of weight that falls onto your shoulders and your heart feels full of cobwebs when he looks at you. Dave wants so goddamn badly to be loved by you, and you know it. You just want him to stop being such a little bitch and go try out for football or something. Stop crying over that Johnny boy, whatever, just stop being such a little pussy. “I just say my brother fucking this, like, sixteen-year-old dude in the ass and, uh,” he stutters and you sigh internally. “You expect me to fuckin’ ignore it completely?”

“Yeah,” you say and after a moment, you add, “why the fuck were you watching gay porn, Dave?”

He doesn’t answer that but counters with, “Why were you starring in a gay porno, dude?”

He’s defensive now, almost as if he’s ready to strife. In actuality, however, he’s probably really upset that you called him out for being gay. “Because you ain’t old enough to pay any of this goddamn rent, junior,” you say. Dave stomps his foot and it’s so goddamn childish you want to whip his ass with your sword and stuff a smuppet in his face. “Fucking cut that shit out, Dave, you aren’t fucking nine.”

“You are such an asshole!”

“What the fuck are you? A lil’ girl?”

He walks out of your room and slams the door roughly enough that Lil Cal, who’s sitting on top of your dresser, falls off and slams his face into the floor. You pick him up and shout through the door, “Don’t be such a dick.”

 

In the morning, he’s slurping down orange juice with a fistful of cheerios for breakfast. “No wonder you’re such a goddamn twig,” you say, reaching into the fridge and stealing some take-out from yesterday.

“I can run the mile in under seven minutes,” he states, slumping against the wall and looking at you, looking for a compliment.

“Why the fuck are you not in football?” 

“I’m not a fucking jock,” he sneers.

You chuckle and then frown at him angrily; you do not want nor do you need his bullshit so early in the morning. Dave is such a little shit. “You’re too much of a goddamn faggot to get in, huh?”

He throws the cheerios at you and dumps the orange juice on the floor as he walks out the door. Once the door slams, you can hear the glass of the cup smashing into the carpeted floor outside. Perhaps if he didn’t have an F in gym, you’d appreciate all the A’s he has in his other classes. Or the B in history, whatever; Dave is a little nerd with ribs poking against his skin with baggy jeans and long shirts - an insecure little fool who can hardly cut your shoulder with a blade during strife.

When he gets home, you’re in your room with Lil Cal, showing the dude your newest beats. Dave slams the door inside and then slams his bedroom door and you can hear his backpack hit the floor along with his shoes smashing against the wall as he kicks them off. You also hear the lock on his door click as he turns it. He’s had a rough day, doubtlessly, and you’d feel sympathy or maybe pity if he didn’t act like such a little fuck and ask for it. 

After ten minutes, you leave your room – you leave Cal on the bed so he can rest after your newest raps have fucked his mind – and settle in the living room to watch something. With the volume all the way up, it doesn’t take long for Dave to shout, frustrated and irritated, through the walls, “Turn it the fuck down!”

 

Dave is in his room more often than not now. Even before the little episode with your pornos, he at least came out every once in a while to grab some apple juice or say hey to one of your puppets or something, but now he’s just locked up. You don’t precisely care up until he misses strife with you and you wouldn’t care then if you hadn’t assumed that he’s skipping for some gay little reason or he’s just being a little pussy as usual. When you open his door – locks mean absolutely nothing to you – you expect to find him curled up in front of his computer blogging or something but instead you find him on his bed, hand on his cock, and a computer to his side.

You can imagine his throat going dry before he croaks out, “Hey, Bro.” His glasses are off and he moves, casually, to cover up his prick and exit something on his laptop.

“We were supposed to strife, Dave.”

“I was kind of busy, mister never fucking knocks.”

You resist the urge to sigh disappointingly and lean against the wall in the same manner but instead you say, “When the living fuck did you get your belly button pierced?”

“The same time I got my ears pierced,” he says, and only now do you actually see the little glints of metal on his ears. 

“Which was today,” you say, because this would never have gotten passed you if he’d done it earlier. “You look like a queer, Dave.”

“You’re a douche.”

“You’re a faggot,” you end it, and slam his door shit. After several moments, you hear him creak off the bed and lock it.

 

The next day, he asks for twenty dollars. You squint at him and ask what the fuck he wants. “Video game,” he states, simply. He’s probably going to buy new shoes or something because his current ones look like they’ve gone through a shredder and he actually cares enough to get new ones. You give him twenty-five dollars and bitch him out the door.

When he comes back, his shoes are the same save for being covered in mud. He’s got a shopping bag in one hand and a receipt in the other, and throws three quarters at you in change. Without a word, he retreats to his room, locks the door, and that’s how the night ends. You assume he comes out of his room for food once you’ve left the living room.

 

When he misses strife again, you assume you’re going to barge in on the same scene with his hand on his cock and a laptop at his side. Instead, you walk in on dick sticking out of a pair of striped, frilled panties with his hand grabbing at his sack and his tongue wiping across his lips and he was in the middle of a moan when you walked in. “Fucking knock!” he screams, and slams the laptop shut.

“So,” you start, resting your katana against your shoulder. “This is your fucking video game, huh? Some fucking bow-tied underwear made for chicks?” your sigh is heavy and you practically groan. “Dave,” you state, “you’re gay as hell.”

“Get the fuck out of my room!” he screams. Face red and eyes shut and fist clenched, he’s the symbol of embarrassment. 

“You little shit,” you say to him, dropping your sword and actually stepping past the frame of his door and into his mess of a room. You’re lucky you don’t accidentally get strangled by a wire when you step next to his bed, knees pressing against the mattress. You are not angry, you’re disappointed. Fuck, he’s not your son and he’s not even really your brother but you raised him so why is he such a goddamn queer? You’re fine if he likes dudes, that’s fine, but why does he have to be so… weak? So fucking… “Dave,” you say, hands digging into his shoulder.

You’ve wanted to punch him before but somehow you figure that his nails digging into your wrist is a bit more gratifying. It’s girly, gay as hell, but at least he’s defending himself physically. Here, with his shades off and face naked, you can see the red in his eyes and observe the fear and nervousness he’s feeling.

“You weren’t jerking off to porn,” you say, suddenly. Your face contorts to something between quizzical and irritated. “Dave, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“John watches me sometimes,” he says, staring harshly at your throat.

“You’re a pussy.”

“And a faggot, yeah, now get the fuck out of my room, Bro.” He looks down at the bulge in his underwear and waits for you to let go of his flesh and leave. 

You wait a few moments, almost praying for him to actually stand up for himself. You want him to defy you, to fucking be a Strider and stop being this little pussy who calls himself cool when talking to his friends.

“You’re a fucking queer, Dave,” you shout at his face. He’s going to cry as soon as you leave and you know he does because you can hear his stifled sobs over the TV. It’s likely he gave up on his little show for the John kid and just went straight to his emotions.

That night, you go out and film an amateur porno with a girl who can’t be much older than sixteen. Her moans are cheesy and you sound emotionless and it sucks like hell but it doesn’t really matter because it’s porn and people aren’t usually that picky.

 

On a Thursday, Dave arrives home late as hell – 11:37 PM – with disheveled hair and a fat lip and the collar of his shirt ripped. “Get in a fight, lil’ queer?” you ask, hoping wastefully that he initiated it and ended it.

“John fucked me in the ass and I sucked his cock,” he says instead. In his hand, he’s got a shitty little camera that doubtlessly has the footage on it. “His cum is sweet,” he tells you, and then slams his bedroom door.

You shout at his door that the girl you did the other night tasted like fucking salt and he’s fourteen, what the hell was he doing filming porn for other kids his age to get off to? What if a kid at his school recognized his face? 

Whatever, you don’t really care. Dave’s a queer but he’s not stupid – you think, you pray – so it’s unlikely to happen. Maybe he covers up his face or something. It’s what you do.

You actually search for the clip on all the porn sites you’ve uploaded your own things to. You’re sure Dave is registered on one of them if he say your face, and sure enough you find a user named Dstri (similar to your own username, DiStri) and you can recognize Dave’s thin little body almost immediately. Uploaded eighteen minutes ago is a fifteen minute video of him with John, which you watch.

Dave is good at giving head and his moans sound sincere but you can tell John is all about getting some action. You doubt he even knows Dave goes to the same school.

 

You keep in check on the videos he uploads. Usually, you don’t watch them, because a majority of them are of him in those frilly panties with his hand shoved down his crotch. You don’t see his face, ever, but you do see his cock (again). He’s large for his age.

After a month or so of nothing new, you notice his follower rating go down. It drops two people before he posts a new video with a girl you recognize as his fucking twin in New York, Rose. Their fumbling isn’t awkward, more for show than anything, and it’s almost silent save for the music in the background and Rose’s pants. Apparently, he’s good at any kind of oral, because she moans his name like a prayer. They don’t fuck, but Rose returns the favor and the video ends with Dave’s cum splattered over her chest and her tongue dipping over her tongue. 

“Dave,” you shout, running out of your room.

He walks out, panties on and shades, too. “What?”

“Why is the only girl you can get your sister?”

“She does this shit, too,” he states.

“You guys are four-fucking-teen.”

“She’s into older men,” he replies. After a length of silence, he adds, “She’s fucking her history teacher.”

 

You avoid watching anything that pops up on his account for a long time and you certainly don’t go searching for Rose’s (but you do find it. On Dave’s profile, she’s added as a friend or something, and her icon is an innocent picture of her, save for the lack of a shirt). You lecture Dave to quit this incestuous shit and actually go bone a girl who isn’t in his family, and he responds with a video of him licking the asshole of some boy you’ve never seen before. It’s the likely the dude is a stranger, but you wouldn’t know. You don’t really care, either.

“Girls don’t have dicks, dude,” you tell him.

 

He misses his third strife in a row and this time you don’t care, really, but you open up his door anyway. You walk in on him, mid orgasm, spilling his cum onto his stomach and hand with the panties at his ankles and the webcam glowing green. This will be up in less than an hour, doubtlessly. Well, it might have been, have you not ruined it.

“Do you get a thrill out of this, or something?”

“Do you?” you figure then he watches the shit you post, too.

“I do it to pay bills, you little fuck,” you say. He doesn’t close his laptop and the two of you fight. It’s not a strife and there’s no swords and no bloods and no physical contact save for when he shoves you out the door. “I pay the fucking bills!” you shout, banging his door. You make a splinter in the wood.

“I wear panties,” he says through the door.

“You’re a faggot,” you scream. You’ve lost your cool.

“I hate you,” you hear. You know he’s going to cry.

“You’re a faggot, Dave.”

 

You’re surprised as shit when Dave walks in and slams a wad of money down on the floor in front of you. By size and the sound of the thumps it makes as it hits the ground, you assume it’s three hundred dollars in twenties and tens. “Where the fuck did you get this?”

“Shut your dick-licking mouth,” he says, slamming his door.

Later that night, he updates his profile with a phone number. It’s his cell-phone, obviously, but underneath it he explains that he’ll do whatever you want for as long as you want as long as you pay. He doesn’t list his prices or anything, which you think might be smart, but he uploads at least eight videos over the next weeks. His followers go up at least fourteen hundred people. 

A lot of people want Dave’s fourteen-year-old prick, apparently.

Occasionally, he’ll post a video of him and Rose. But now that he’s a whore, it’s mainly just him with a variety of women and some dudes in their twenties that one a little ass. Girls want his tongue on their clit and they never complain during the videos. Sometimes, the return the favor, but Dave usually cuts it out if it passes ten minutes. The dudes he hook up with kind of worry you because one is large and hairy and you think for a minute he’s about to punch Dave in the jaw, but instead he just rams his cock up Dave’s ass and your brother does not complain.

It’s kind of disgusting.

Within the next week, he allows comments of the videos of him with strangers; never on the ones of him going solo, or of him and Rose, or of the few with John. You don’t read many, but a majority of what you see is positive and a bunch of winks and sloppy grammar.

You figure he has at least two hundred more followers than you do.

 

Dave asks you for fifty dollars and you raise an eye at him with a glare. “What do you want? More undies, girly?”

“I’m gonna go buy a vibrator.”

You’re almost speechless save for a sigh and it’s not exactly disappointment but you’re irritated and you give him the money. He returns around eight, and in that time you post a video on your puppet site of you fucking Cal. Anyway, Dave comes in with a box under his arm and a shopping bag in his hand. You assume he has some decorative underwear in the bag and the sex toy in the box.

At 4:17 AM he posts a video of him wanking as he teases the vibrator into his hole and something pulls in your stomach and you think, “Wow, gay,” but you tug out your cock and tug because, fuck, Dave looks nice those thigh highs.

At five in the morning, he posts a video of him masturbating again. This time, there are no toys, but he is wearing new underwear. They’re pink, striped, with little bows on the side. You jerk off again because you admire, secretly, how cute and fucking hot he looks in the damn things.

 

Dave misses strife again, a surprise to no one, but he’s not in his room when you come to lecture him. There’s a paper taped to his pillow of him and Rose, shirtless, tongues out (here you wonder how the living fuck Rose is getting from New York to Texas so frequently). Their bodies look similar, all bony and freckled, but Rose has on boxer briefs compared to Dave’s panties. A photo under his pillow shows Rose grabbing Dave’s bulge and their tongues entwining out of their mouths.

They’re good at this.

You wait for Dave to get home and it takes half an hour and when he does arrive, he’s shirtless and sunburnt and he has a bag of Doritos in his hand.

“Quit this incestuous shit right the fuck now,” is the first thing that spills out of your mouth.

“Viewers like it. Shit’s hot,” he says, and you can hear the realistic confidence behind it.

“I don’t give a flying fuck, Dave,” you respond, almost yelling. “I’m your goddamn brother and you’re going to fucking listen to me. When I told you to go a fuck a lady, I didn’t mean your goddamn sister, and I’m not okay with it, okay? Okay, you little fuck? Now, cut it the hell out.” You finish nearly screaming.

He says, calmly, “Rose has a girlfriend named Kanaya who’s gonna star in a threesome with us.”

“You little fuck,” you punch him.

 

Dave has a black eye and a puffy cheek for a few weeks, but doesn’t seem to really care. “Jealous of my ratings,” he’d scoff, but you know he knows that you fucking despise him for his uselessness. Well, not as useless as he used to be. You can afford more fabric now that he’s pulling in more than four hundred dollars a week nowadays. No matter how many thumbs ups Dave gets, and no matter how many people call up his phone for some fucking head, he’s still a big fucking dork who wants someone to show him affection because he couldn’t be tough - couldn’t show a little manliness for his brother.

However, he does not post a video with Rose in it. Good, the little fuck listened to you.

When things seem a little brighter, he brings home a boy; a boy with red, army-cut hair and a freckled face with elfish ears and baggy clothes, “This is Karkat.” Dave says only that much, and you can hear the boy moaning through the walls. His voice is scratchy and dry, but he makes Dave fucking scream and you know the video he posts is gonna get him five new followers and a billion hits.

You’re right.

“This is Kan,” he tells you. It’s a girl with auburn hair and she’s obviously gay. Freckles, though less vicious than Karkat’s, and a bandana around her neck. You assume it’s his way of telling you that Rose and him are still up to no good and even if it’s not online, it hasn’t ended. 

When Kanaya leaves, she kisses Dave’s cheek and Dave thrusts his tongue in her mouth. In the door, she moans, and you think for a moment they’ll just go out and have sex right there. Instead, he smirks at her and she smiles, and the door is shut.

“Do you even wear a condom?”

“I’m not fucking retarded, you asshole,” he tells you.

“Dave?”

“Safety is like my number one priority, you fuck.”

 

You finally have a confrontation with Dave after you wank to a video of him using the vibrator again. You haven’t posted a video in weeks, yet he has at least twelve videos up a week along with five hundred dollars and it’s all because he’s selling his body and making a living off of giving oral to strangers. You wonder if he has herpes or AIDs or something. It’s possible.

You should probably get him tested later.

“Dave,” you call him out of his room with no harsh undertone and the news on the TV. You don’t actually give a fuck about the robbery that occurred at the street corner last night, but watching anything of your own taste would seem rude or offsetting. 

He strolls out in boxers and his shades. There’s a sucker stuck in his mouth and he looks too cocky for a boy who is afraid of his own shadow. “Whatcha want?”

“We’re gonna talk about this whole porn situation, alright?”

“Go fuck yourself,” he pouts – lips perched – but doesn’t move from his spot in the hallway. 

“No, Dave,” you say sternly. Who are you kidding, though? You aren’t his father. “We’re gonna fucking talk about this.”

Your brother doesn’t say a word so you continue.

Or, you would continue if you knew where to go. You’ve never done this before. You haven’t even confronted Dave for anything and you’ve never attempted to get to the bottom of things like this. Here, you realize this is a fruitless attempt at nothing. You admit to yourself, though, that you’re kind of jealous of all those people in his videos. All those people who get to touch him, get to see and hear him moan and whine and beg, and not be a little pussy as he scuttles away from you with a tail between his legs.

So, you call him over to the couch.

When he gets close to you, his toe brushes over your foot and then you grab his waist – he’s still so fucking skinny – and pull him in your lap. He yelps – what a pussy – but you silence him with a kiss you know he won’t be able to compare to anything. You taste like smoke and beer and he tastes like candy and you wonder what he did with the sucker when he was walking over here – whatever. You breathe into his mouth, “You’re such a fucking queer.”

He leaves your lap and runs to his room wordlessly.

You smirk, knowing he’s never felt that before. If you’ve met anyone who could be crowned the best kisser in the goddamn universe, it’s you. Bro Strider is the fucking king of make-outs. You lean back into the couch to continue to mentally gloat about yourself, but something pricks against your neck.

Dave stuck his candy in your hair.


	2. Chapter 2

It gets colder during the nights and you don’t really care because you spend the dark hours in clubs or under covers. With Halloween approaching, the bars are filling up nightly for the festivities. You play frequently and proudly pull in a good thousand dollars every three days. Also, you give your manager the greatest orgasm ever and he gives you four hundred dollars instead of two hundred. You don’t complain, nor do you mention it, but you kiss his cheek in a thank you. He’s probably too drunk to realize the missing money and too high to give a fuck. 

On the actual night of Halloween, you only work for a good hour or so before leaving. The clubs you work out have hired many shows throughout the night for men and women ready to fuck on the dance floor. Whatever, Cal is probably lonely at home anyway. And your other puppets. 

You pick up pizza on the way home and devour half of it on the drive there and drop the rest of the box in the fridge.

Dave is on the couch, playing Call of Duty on your Xbox. “Sup, faggot,” you call from the kitchen. He gives you a happy Halloween and tells you to go fuck yourself in hell.

The boy hasn’t trick-or-treated since fourth grade and often spends the nights in his room or at a friend’s house. You’re actually surprised he’s here; you’d assumed he would have had a full schedule of men and women wanting his dick on this night. Maybe he’ll be busy during New Years Eve? In that case, you’d be able to get wasted. It’d be nice. Anyway, regardless of Dave’s past Halloweens, he’s on the couch in a small, feminine devil costume with horns and the all. His bulge pushes against the fabric obviously and he’s not aroused and why the fuck are you jealous of your little brother’s cock? 

It’s not jealousy, you realize. You want it.

You go into your room and leave Dave to his devices on the couch. Cal helps you come and you have to give the lil’ guy a bath after the mess you make of his glove.

 

Dave’s birthday comes and goes and you give him the present of your dick in a box and your lips on his neck and he shivers against your whole body. Maybe all the sex and all the people drooling over his fifteen-year-old dick gave him a little confidence, but in the presence of you, he’s still a little pussy. Whatever, a part of you says, it’s kind of hot. You leave a big, purple hickey on his clavicle that you know will be visible when he returns to school.

That’s not exactly good, but Dave is yours. 

 

For Valentine’s Day, Dave sucks your dick.

He posts the video fourteen minutes after he leaves, and you wonder where the fuck the camera was.

Your little brother is good at giving head and knows how to work those fingers. He scratches at your thighs a bit, almost pinches your balls, and then leaves eight, long, symmetrical streaks going down from your chest to your hips as he sucked you dry.

It’s the best sex you’ve ever been given and you’d give anything to repeat the experience of his lips around your dick.

However, you regret it when he leaves in an hour and within that hour; he posts a video of him and Rose fucking. Dave, as far as you’ve seen, has never had actual sex with a girl. You think, partially, it’d be obvious he’d do it first with his sister. It still turns your stomach and makes you physically sick.

And after that, he does return home for another two hours and posts three two minute long videos of him and a boy you don’t know groping each other and making out. It never escalates beyond that, but it still bothers you that after he gave you the best fucking head ever, he’s off “helping” others.

When he walks through the door, you tell him, “Fuckin’ stud.”

He spits out the apple juice he was drinking and some of it sprays onto your cheek but you don’t really care because Dave’s jaw basically hits the floor and he drags it back to his room with him.

 

It’s not a holiday of any sort, but he’s free of school for a week due to some issues that happened with the plumbing. The first day of that week, you corner Dave in the hallway and you him the most mind-blowing kiss he’s ever received. You can hear him moan in the shower when you leave him hanging dry, and after he washes himself he comes into your room and pounces on your bed.

He shoves Cal out of your hands – you knew he always hated your lil’ man – and shoves his mouth against yours. Dave grinds his hips into yours and it’s almost uncomfortable because of how bony he is but the warmth of his skin is overpowering so you simply pull at his hair while moving your lips against his. You can feel his bulge rubbing against your thigh while he whimpers in his mouth, so you treat him with your tongue. He moans when you bring it against his lips and soon enough the two of you are fighting for dominance – you win it, obviously. Dave is puny compared to you. Anyway, you move a hand to palm at his ass while the other continues the assault on his hair. His arms are useless, simply lying at your sides while he dry humps his way to orgasm.

You’re pretty sure his boxers are ruined forever.

“Dave,” you say, almost breathlessly.

“What do you want?” he glares, and you feel offended.

No. Proud? Maybe, but more or less it hurts.

“Wear your panties next time. And, uh,” since when the fuck did Bro Strider stutter? “The thigh highs.”

“Sir, yes, sir,” he says, all sarcasm and carelessness.

 

You make a gross croaking noise when he appears in front of your door with a box under his arm and in nothing but his panties and, of course, his thigh highs. “Did you bring your fucking vibrator, Dave?” you ask, bringing your eyebrows together. It makes you irritated, slightly.

“Sit back on the bed.”

Despite your irritation, you listen to him. Up against your head board, you wait as he gets his sex toy out of the box and gets up on your bed and sits on his haunches. You notice now that he’s already aroused and he came to you out of boredom. 

It hurts – in a way.

You lean forward to put your hands on his thighs; to feel his skin, to hold him – you want your name flying out of his mouth. He slaps your hand with his toy, though, glaring at you.

“Do not fucking touch me.”

You growl but don’t make any advances. 

Dave gets himself situated, and pulls his underwear down to his knees. His cock basically pops out and sits straight up, almost against his stomach. His hand is on it quickly, and he shivers when he jerks his hand. You note that he hasn’t grown any hair yet – or he’s shaved. You also note that he still has that goddamn belly button ring.

After a few minutes of him biting at his lip and moving into his own touch, he starts finger his asshole. Your face burns with a blush you didn’t allow to rise and you take of your shades. He’s a lot paler when not hidden by a tinted piece of glass.

Once he’s used to that, he’s breathing heavily and his tongue is heavy against his bottom lip. You want to catch it with your own. You want to press your fingers against his naval and jerk him off or something; you want your name on his fucking mouth. Your fingers twitch but you don’t touch him. However, you do pull down the fly of your jeans. Dave brings out the vibrator you forgot existed up until now and eases it into himself. When he turns it on, it’s a flick of his finger and that makes him double over and suddenly the hand on his cock is pumping a lot faster.

“Dave,” you say. You want him.

“Shut your fucking mouth,” he breathes.¬

 

You realize later that Dave hates you and wants nothing to do with you. He does not want your affection or anything like it. He doesn’t want your dick like you want his and he doesn’t want anything from you at all. Unlike you, who wants nothing but him and you don’t know how to describe it any further than that.

Dave hates you.

 

You wish you could make him feel like he’s never touched the ground before. You wished he’d let you fucking touch him. You wish he would touch you. He lets you watch him, lets you watch him do the things you could see online any second. It’s so much better in person though.

He leaves if you move to touch him. He’ll allow you to jerk off once he’s finished, but not before then and you can’t finish until he leaves your room. He’d stayed in your room an hour and let you nearly scream with want as he made you wait and wait and wait and then he left, throwing Cal on your bed from his spot in the hall. 

The relationship you have with your brother obviously is not healthy, as well as not being anything sibling-like. You suppose him and Rose get to better as well as they do out of bed as they do in bed. They’re friends, brother and sister. Dave doesn’t think of you that way. “More of a father, I guess,” he tells you. “A father who made fun of…” he stops, and ponders.

His blond hair still covers his shades and he hardly ever lets you see the red of his eyes. He shakes his head, a blur of white and flecks of brown. “It doesn’t matter,” Dave says. He gets up and leans against the door and you have your hand at the tip of your cock. “You’re an asshole, Bro.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> side note i always had this headcanon that bro was really rough on dave
> 
> so
> 
> yeah


End file.
